


Left Behind

by beekayem



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Corpse Cuddling, Denial!Derek, M/M, dead!stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-14
Updated: 2013-05-14
Packaged: 2017-12-11 20:02:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/802659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beekayem/pseuds/beekayem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn't until everyone was sat down in the living room that Erica shattered his reality with an offhanded, “God what died in here?” as she reached up and pinched her nose shut between her thumb and forefinger.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Left Behind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [arora_kayd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/arora_kayd/gifts).



> This was intended to be sad. As I wrote it and am sufficiently dead inside I'm not really sure if I succeeded, but if you don't want to read something that has the possibility of being sad I suggest you do not continue? Just. You know. Save yourself the pain. I feel like I've tagged this with enough warnings to let you know what to expect.
> 
> Also this is not beta'd so...any mistakes and general shittiness is my fault and mine alone :)

Stiles had been left behind. Had been left asleep in Derek's bed in Derek's loft while his boyfriend slipped out in the early hours to fight a fight that Stiles' should have been there for. A territory dispute that had escalated so quickly and so terribly that the Hale pack ( _Stiles'_ pack) had been forced to go on the offense. The time and place had been chosen and the ensuing argument over Stiles' involvement had been what had forced Derek to lie when he'd returned to share the information. Derek needed him to be safe and the only way that could happen was to make sure he didn't fight.

Stiles had been left behind.

At 6:45 in the morning on what was going to be a beautiful Thursday, Derek and his pack minus Stiles trudged out into the preserve to meet their rivals. They would win. They were stronger, more in tune with each other than the other pack. In the four years since Derek had rolled back into Beacon Hills, he and his pack had pulled themselves together and managed to form a cohesive, caring unit. This other pack was new, made up of mostly stragglers – omegas that the Alpha had picked up.

The fight didn't last long and soon enough Derek was hovering over the mangled form of the Alpha wiping the blood from his mouth and tilting his head back to howl his victory. One, two, three howls joined and soon he could hear every member of his pack answer. Except Stiles.

Stiles had been left behind.

The cleanup took longer than the actual battle. Disposing of bodies had never been a particularly glamorous job and as such there was always a great deal of procrastination. It was an hour before Erica judged them finished and made the decision that they would all head home and clean up before meeting for breakfast at the diner. The cars dispersed and Derek made the drive back to the loft, bracing himself for what was going to be a severely pissed off boyfriend waiting for him.

He could smell the blood before the elevator even arrived at his floor. _No_. That was- _NO_. The doors opened and he flung himself into the main room and rushed up the stairs. His concerns were unfounded though. Stiles was still lying in the bed where Derek had left him, his expression serene as he slept on. Derek reached into his pocket for his phone and sent off a text to Erica excusing himself from breakfast. Then stripping off his clothes he crawled into bed and curled around his mate.

…

"Come on Stiles you need to eat." he nudged the plate toward his silent table partner, "Please?"

Stiles hadn't spoken to him since he'd returned home that day of the battle. It was agony trying to coax him into breaking his vow of angry silence – Derek just wanted to hear his voice again. Naturally Stiles wasn't having any of that though...he refused to speak. Refused to eat anything Derek made him. Instead he spent most of his time in bed ignoring Derek and the rest of the world.

Once more his offering of sustenance went unnoticed. Sighing softly he leaned down and pressed his lips to Stiles' head and ran his fingers over his boyfriend's hair gently, "Okay, I'll leave you alone now. Just-" he paused, swallowing the lump in his throat, "I wish you'd stop punishing me...I already said I was sorry."

There was no reply.

There never was.

Life wore on.

It grew to be a routine. Derek would wake up and make breakfast for the two of them and after failing to rouse Stiles to eat, would leave the food beside him while he returned downstairs to clean. Derek would head to the old house to continue rebuilding it for a few hours before returning to the loft to find Stiles' plate empty. After making lunch he would assess the grocery situation and walk down to the supermarket to pick up a few necessities. Stiles plate would be clear of food each time. After watching a couple of hours of television after dinner, Derek would wander upstairs to their bedroom; undress and slip beneath the covers of their bed.

The hole that had gnawed itself into his heart grew larger and larger with each silent dismissal. He missed the way that Stiles smiled at him. The way that Stiles even _looked_ at him rather than spending day after day staring at that fucking wall.

But Derek persevered. He'd tighten his grip and burrow his nose into Stiles' throat and whisper his apologies. His I-love-you's in the hopes that they would somehow reach his troubled mate and rouse him from his depression. Into the night his murmured reassurances that Stiles _was_ pack went unheard however and by morning Derek was sleep deprived and nowhere closer to having his mate back to normal.

Then the pack happened.

For so long he'd been caught up in his own little world of pain that he'd never even realised it had been nearly a month since he'd last seen any of them. When they turned up at his door for the monthly pre-full-moon meeting he had a fleeting shock of guilt at his neglect of his pack. It wasn't until everyone was sat down in the living room that Erica shattered his reality with an offhanded, _"God what died in here?"_ as she reached up and pinched her nose shut between her thumb and forefinger.

Frowning slightly he sniffed the air, "I can't smell anything." however now that it had been acknowledged, one by one the rest of the pack followed.

Jackson sniffed, "You haven't dragged another deer back here have you?"

The answer was no. No he hadn't.

Scott had risen to his feet and headed into the kitchen – presumably for snacks when there was a confused noise, "Derek, have you had someone over?"

It was lost to everyone else as they continued their chastising of his cleaning abilities, but Derek heard him and padded over to the kitchen, "Of course not, what do you mean?" and peering into the sink where his beta was pointing he spied the two sets of dishes from his and Stiles' dinner earlier that evening, "That's just from dinner." he explained, bemused at Scott's puzzled expression.

"But why do you have two plates?"

Taking the time to rinse them and sit them in the dishwasher, Derek sighed, "Because there are two people living here Scott? Stiles needs to eat just as much as I do so it makes sense that he uses a plate, same as me."

It took him a while before he finally noticed the silence that had fallen over the entire loft. Turning to face Scott he frowned at the pale, wide eyed look he was sporting. Soon the rest of the pack had filtered into the kitchen and were watching him with varying degrees of concern and horror.

"Stiles is dead Derek." Boyd broke the strained emptiness that had taken over.

Shaking his head Derek rubbed a hand over his face, "No." the lump in his throat was back, "No that's wrong."

Boyd stepped forward with his arm outstretched to console his Alpha, "It's true Derek. We found him here after the fight. One of the other pack's betas had broken in while we were gone..." his hand finally brushed against Derek's shoulder, "We buried him the next day. Beside his mom."

Which- _No_. No, just no. Stiles couldn't be dead. Stiles was upstairs in their bed where he'd been for the last two weeks! What were they talking about? Shaking his head he shifted out of Boyd's reach and swallowed down the bile that was bubbling up from his stomach, "That's not real. He's in bed right now-" he chokes slightly, "He's sleep in bed right now!" the words burst forth in a guttural roar and both Boyd and Scott rushed forward to grab him.

He didn't notice Erica disappearing.

He didn't notice the broken scream as she entered the bedroom.

All he noticed was the thick odor of decay as it suddenly rushed to fill his mouth and nose and choked him. The vomit suddenly burst forth as he failed to keep it down any longer. For what seemed like hours he lay hunched over on the tiles, retching as the grief and horror ate away at him.

As Scott's trembling grip loosened slightly Derek knew he couldn't stay there any longer. He felt the transformation as it washed over him and before anybody could react, he was gone.

…

They were sat in a line along the gutter outside the building wondering what to do when suddenly Scott's eyes flashed a bright scarlet.

It was Isaac and Allison who found Derek's body in the preserve. His fingers and palms burned and oozing where they rested amongst the familiar purple flowers. His mouth and chin and throat a mess of inky black. When Allison tilted his head back to take his pulse she spied the end of the stalk poking through his lips and pulled the remains of the mangled wolfsbane plant from his throat.

They buried Derek and re-buried Stiles on the preserve. A double grave. When the last of the dirt was patted down and the makeshift grave markers were placed, Scott tilted his head back and howled. Then linking arms with his pack he led them from the site.


End file.
